Independence
by KKSunny
Summary: Sealand desperately wants to be a part of the grown-up world in which gaining independence is the first step into becoming a legitimate country. He seeks Britain for assistance. UKSL Shonen-ai Oneshot


And now I bring to you Axis Powers Hetalia. I'm a little bewildered myself: I have only just gotten into the fandom recently and expeditiously established favorites and pairings. Here's one of them, for example: England/Sealand.

In my fic here, I'm a little unsure whether or not I've kept the characters in character (since I'm completely new to APH), so please don't be rough on me by the time you've finished reading. c:

Have fun.

Quick disclaimer: I don't own anything you're about to read except for the plot and story. Everything else belongs to history and APH.

POV: Sealand

Pairing: UK/SL, and hints of UKUS

Genre: Shonen-ai/Drama

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><p>During the Second World War was when I was born. My only purpose was to serve as an oceanic war base for my older brother, the United Kingdom. Well… technically, I couldn't call him my "older brother" around that time since I hadn't been anything of importance regarding something as huge as a legitimate country. I was simply an instrument of war, a defense mechanism composed of cement pillars erecting out of the ocean with a platform on top aligned with several variations of guns. I wasn't much during my birth: I wasn't even a Principality yet. No Kings or Queens, princes or princesses. Just soldiers on duty firing their weapons on invaders.<p>

Although as time went on and war passed, I finally began my destiny of becoming a country. One day of exhaustion from living under Britain's wing, I decided to proclaim my independence. I said to him that I wanted to be my own country and to have my own rules and regulations. But the only thing Britain did was fan me off and said I was too young. That completely blew me over! How dare he not respect me as a country! I then decided I would pay a visit to his house to complain about this whole matter.

I remember the day having particularly nice weather at my arrival: Slightly overcast but with a warm sun shining through. I didn't really see it fitting the mood, but at the time, I was too cheesed off to fully notice. I barged through Britain's door – as fancy and superior as it was – and stormed about, yelling his name until I finally found him in his book room. And the first thing he does is shush me, not even looking up from his book. I could have shat my bermudas I was so cross! Despite this, however, I lowered my voice anyway when telling him again about my independence. I told him I wanted my land to be moved away from his oceanic borders. In response, Britain seemed irked, snapping his book shut and gently placing it down onto the end table. Before he looked at me with his critical green eyes, he took off his reading glasses as I approached the side of the armchair he sat in. Right when he looked at me, I already knew his answer. He then took a moment to think or to keep my curiousity at end. It was pure torture, I say and he knew it!

I waited tantalizingly for a response I already knew the words to like a bad song you keep listening to and you don't even know why yourself. I remember digging my bitten fingernails into the leather seat's arm in apprehension. When Britain finally opened his big snobby mouth, he said something I never expected

"Do as you must."

I was completely shocked – so shocked in fact; I had no words to express myself with. Has he finally begun to respect me? Or is this all a stupid, yet amazing dream? I started to doubt my brother.

"R-Really?" I croaked, wide-eyed and gobsmacked, clawing my fingers into the leather. He only smiled in response and tousled my dirty-blonde bangs. And right then, I felt like a kid again - I mean, more of a kid than I am now. What a putrid feeling it was. I would have thought that my initial reaction would be exhilarated for having my own rights set forth because I got what I dreamed of: living further enough away from Britain's territory that I would then become an independent vessel on the waters. The more I think about it, however: perhaps now being my own country is a little too farfetched. If Britain only gave me permission to move my territory away from him, then wouldn't I still be under his control, his love, sovereignty, and everything else because _he_ has the ability of pushing _me_ away? I should have thought this through more scrupulously!

Then, through my inner quarreling, Britain stands up, abandoning his book and leaves the room. Why, I thought to myself, why would he make such a major decision then just abruptly leave? Completely boggling and I will never _ever_ learn to understand that man.

…

Everything seemed dejected by the time I got my land moved. I felt as if I didn't see the entire picture of the situation. After I moved away from Britain, he didn't even look at me. Never said a word. It was as if he turned his back on me and left me to fend for myself. But then I think about the situation I'm in: isn't this what I wanted? Didn't I want to be my own country? Since the decision made by my older brother, I have been a principality with all of what I dreamed of having. Yet somehow, I feel cold; as if deprived of something. I find myself returning to Britain's side, tugging on his sleeve and pestering him for answers. I would always get the same response every time, though.

As life continued on, I crept into what felt like a stalemate in my own conflict. I never took the opportunity to expand nor did I bother making myself known to other countries as I used to before I became a principality. Even now as I am meant to grow, I've began ignoring some of my friends. It's not as if Canada needs anymore countries ignoring him. Though he may be bigger than me, I feel as if he's lower on the rung than I am. Or perhaps I'm only exaggerating... Britain always tells me not to. Er… In correction, I believe it would be that he "told" me I should never exaggerate about these subjects…

_Oh dear God_ I miss him so. Why must he ignore me? I didn't do anything to deserve this perplexing punishment. I can't help but feel that this was all my fault, though. Right when I became a principality, everything changed. Why? Britain used to be there for me all the time. We would do everything together… I guess this is just the next leading stage of growing up. What a ridiculous stage; I cannot stand it already! Though what an odd thing to say coming from me. I've always wanted to be a kind gentleman just like the UK… What on earth am I trying to say? This is what I wanted. And I obtained just that if not more if I learn to construct it. I can have my own internet access, and my own private passports set for only those worthy enough to visit me. I can make merchandise, sell them online, and even make my own soccer team! There are so many things to do when being an individual country.

…But it won't be the same without Britain.

He might not be able to support me financially, but simply his presence is what makes up for the lack of space in my heart. Although when I think about it: since I'm official now, I can make my own decisions.

_I got it!_ I'll have a meeting with him – like what adults always do like during World War 1 and 2's aftermath. Why didn't I think this up sooner? I can be quite stunning to myself sometimes.

…

After I called up my brother, I headed to his house when he had agreed to the meeting. I told him it was very important like I actually meant it. I suppose you would call that a white lie, but contrary to belief, I am quite serious about this matter and self-proclaim it as important. All that matters is how Britain sees it if it is important or not. Since he's an adult, however, I have my doubts, yet I have a hope-filled heart on the ready.

Once I passed his front door, shouting out my presence as if I'd returned home, immediately my body warmed up from the harsh weather outside. Realistically though, the weather is slightly chilly, not like the other day when it was partly sunny. However, I did accidentally track in dirt from the cool, sloppy ground. To clean this up, I scratched my shoes against the welcome mat and mopped the dirt-covered wood flooring with my shirt. During that process, I flung my little blue hat onto one of the hooks of the rack by the door, joining the others from Britain's collection, only to slip off my white t-shirt, smudging away at the messy floor. All I ended up doing was making an even greater mess. This was just horrible! Not the greatest way of making an important entrance to join in on a meeting.

The bending of my shoes only made things worse: the caked dirt chipped off onto the floor and I accidentally stepped in it and even went as far as slipping. I fell backwards into the next room, losing my shoes in the process, missing the single step leading into the new surroundings and crashed into the coffee table where I heard a frightening thump echoing behind me. When I looked over, my heart stopped. Britain's flower vase. Knocked over, facing me as it settled into the grey carpet. Flowers, petals and scattered everywhere, broken like shattered glass.

I quickly scrambled to my feet, ignoring the chronic pain in my back and tried scavenging all that I could pick up with my bare hands. I put the vase upright, returning it to the coffee table behind me. I was just glad that I found it in one piece.

There was so much water, mixing into yellow a soup of pollen. Too many petals to pick up. Too big of a mess. Tears fell warm from my face as the last petal prodded into my filled palm. I'm cocking up this entire thing! And to make things even more unbearable, everything in my hands flew into the air as soon as I heard

"What on _earth_ are you doing, Sealand?"

Sheepishly, I twisted my head round to see him, taking no heed to the waterfalls cascading down my cheeks. The man standing before the large arching frame between the shoe hallway and these living quarters suddenly dropped his intense green eyes, easing his countenance with a sigh escaping his throat. Inaudible words passed his lips as his feet ghosted over the floor, finally ending up crouching over me, patting my naked shoulder furthest away from him. He then simply smiled as if I had brought home a puppy. Although his smile is usually a form of comfort to me, the familiar effect didn't quite reach me this time. My tears wouldn't dry as Britain had me stand up, escorting me out of the room, reassuring me he'd clean it up later. I turned toward him with a worried look and said quickly

"But it's my responsibility: I should be the one to take care of it, big brother."

The only thing he did then was hold in a slip of his breath and claimed

"Water won't stain the carpet and a hoover can finish the job." We approached the stairs leading to his room and sort of stopped.

"Just follow me."

As predicted, we traveled up the steps, ending up next to his bedroom door. I impeded us then.

"W-Wait, Britain. This is a meeting: grown-ups don't commence meetings in bedrooms. Have you gone mad again or something?"

Britain chuckled dryly at my remark to the situation, throwing the door open.

"We're not going to have a meeting with one of us half naked." Britain observed stiffly with a miniscule smile, trying to wave me in. I shook my head, mind still contemplating the situation.

"Sealand, let's not be difficult." He sighed and stepped toward me appearing rather pestered. "We're just going to get you a clean shirt and then we'll begin our meeting in another room."

His palm patted my back as I analyzed his words. Once I understood, I freely walked myself into his room in which I immediately noticed that it never changed since my last visit. The furniture appeared untouched and the windows wore their usual thick dry-olive drapery. Everything was the same. Even the temperature…

"I don't have anything in your size," Britain explained slowly while carefully rummaging through the deep end of his closet across from his bed. When did he get there so quickly? "But I'm sure this one will do half the job." He pulled up a coat hanger draped in a simple button-up white shirt and presented it to me. I automatically reached out my hands for the offer, slightly confused as I took the article of clothing, examining it as if it was evidence to some murder mystery.

"It used to belong to Alfred long before he…" The older man trailed off abruptly, looking out into the distance blindly, immediately losing his proud façade. His usually idiosyncratic and serious eyes darkened as he turned round, shut his closet doors quietly and snaked over toward the exit with slumped shoulders. Disregarding our meeting, I followed him while slipping on the shirt. The thin fabric smelled clean as the sleeves moved across my arms, and yet as they did so, the scent seemed so foreign; not like Britain's usual odor.

"Is…Is something the matter, big brother?"

The man walked through the open door to the hallway without a word, trying to keep his shoulders squared and tidy. I continued to follow him, worry and selflessness taking over me as I approached the man, tugging on the bottom of his olive drab jumper. Immediately he ripped around, smacking my hand away as if I had done the most horrendous thing in the world.

"Don't address me as your brother!" The Brit snapped and launched back a step, fists clenching violently in white knuckles. I stood and failed to stare at him with a solid gaze. I tried opening my mouth to retort but then the man stopped me

"You're not a part of me anymore: you're an individual!" His words were harsh as they ripped past his teeth. "I'm not your big brother: I'm just another country! Just another stupid bloody country!"

His shrieks were over-whelming. Tears began to resurface. My eyebrows furrowed painfully as Alfred's shirt tangled between my rigid fingers. I couldn't help but think that these words coming from this man were not directed at me: but to himself in his own personal tragedy. I could hardly bear to listen to any more of this. My mind raced for ideas until finally, a safe action crossed my mind.

Swiftly, my arms tightly folded over the English gentleman, desperately squeezing him of his worry until finally he succumbed to the comfort. In a manner of seconds, he collapsed to his knees, silently sobbing over my shoulder. I have never seen this sort of thing in all my life. I didn't know what else to do; how to comfort him further, to make him feel better as he had done to me in my younger years. It was painful to have a full-grown man shatter over me like this. I simply continued to embrace the Brit, unsure whether my actions were correct or not.

"I'm sorry," Britain murmured mournfully next to my ear, pinning his fingers into my back. "You must pardon my behavior…"

He finally backed up onto his calves away from me after taking a brief moment of silence – probably in a manner of collecting himself. By the time his eyes reached mine, I knew he was pained.

"You are aware I had been treating you badly."

I nodded my head slowly, almost jadedly. I refrained from replying any further than that. England continued.

"You have your independence," The words seemed to sting as the man before me twitched at the syllables of his last utterance. "'Tis what you've always wanted… And I completely disbanded myself from you."

I nodded again, not quite sure where this was headed or what he initially meant.

"But let me reassure you that there was a meaningful purpose behind my actions: I…I wanted you to grow up: To be your own country, to try and develop yourself…"

He took another moment of silence. The house was mute. All I could hear was our breathing. I thought through his message as he thought to finish his. When I decided on my reply, I simply asked

"What about this shirt?"

Britain seemed shocked out of his contemplations and stared at me, appearing somewhat dumfounded. After he gathered himself, he finally stood up straight and indicated his bedroom door with his middle finger.

"Why not we… continue this in my room?" The man suggested in a melancholy tone, already stepping toward the open frame. In an impulse, I was directly behind him as we reticently returned into his sleeping quarters. I immediately stood beside the safety of his nightstand and watched him slowly pace about the room, continuing his ponder. Or perhaps he was only stalling time. I absently fiddled with my new shirt as I waited patiently. It wasn't long before he finally stopped and stood still, choosing whether or not to speak. Decisively, however, he didn't look at me as he began to let his words flow out of him.

"That shirt," he began steadily in a lowered voice, as if he'd fracture glass if he spoke any louder, "Is the only remaining physical memory of America I have before he left. It was a shirt I made for him when he was only a littun. I knew it would fit you…"

For some reason, my head shook at this. A man should never cry over another so easily. I could only shake my head harder.

"Britain, don't say that," I said boldly, curling my hands into light fists. "You're the United Kingdom: you're proud. Too proud to let a man resort you to tears just by a simple memory!"

"He was my brother."

I immediately drew silent, drained of any more words, half ashamed. My feet were the only thing I stared through at that point.

"What I mean is, I found him and titled him my brother and he expeditiously grew like no other. It was quite astonishing, his transformation. So quickly he grew old, in fact, it wasn't long before he did the same thing you did now: call out for independence. Only, he…did it on…much harsher terms."

The atmosphere grew thick. My eyes refused to peel away from my white socked toes. It almost felt as if I was being punished. Silence filled the room. Not even the birds frolicking outside chirped their usual happy tunes.

"You two really aren't that different from one another," Britain observed with an absent halfhearted smile. "I guess I should be proud, yet…"

His green eyes finally glanced over at me as soon as my curiosity forced me to peek up at his unfinished phrase. My eyes begged him to continue. Instead of what I expected, Britain simply chuckled at himself. My cheeks flared red selfishly. Why would he laugh at this when he's clearly troubled?

"…Yet I'm just being a self-centered old man like anyone else." I shook my head at this.

"What are you saying?" I chirped, opening my palms and passionately sending them through the air. England looked at me with bewilderment. "Britain, you're perfect! You shouldn't be saying such terrible things about yourself when you are, in fact, the best brother anyone could wish for. Just look at how successful you and your siblings have become. You make yourself sound so selfish. B-But you're not! Not at all. Y-You-u're just a-a…an over-all wonderful-l p-per-rson."

Tears overtook my senses. I choked on my words. Why must I break down now? How very unusual…

Unbeknownst to me, Britain's presence invaded me as his arms pulled me into a loving embrace. I continued my sorrow as I returned the hug, clenching onto the front of his jumper and wedging my face into his shoulder. Words only heaved out of my throat, sounding like more petty sobs.

As I continued until the end when my crying turned to dry mourning, I simply stood within England's tight arms, my fingers lethargically playing with his shirt. Before silence took over the atmosphere, the gentleman finally whispered

"Thank you," He turned his head and gently kissed my damp cheek. I didn't bother reacting. "But you didn't have to."

"Am I not your little brother anymore?" I asked monotonously, staring numbly at his neck.

"You're the Principality of Sealand," Britain paused briefly, "No. You're not my brother: you're an individual. Just like America."

A weak smile struck my lips. I don't know exactly what for, but I felt happy at Britain's words, just like how it used to be…

"Do I look like him, too?" I asked quietly, unsure why I even inquired. The man simply smiled in return and tousled his hand in my fair hair, finally keeping his hand on the top of my head.

"Indeed you do," He whispered and gently pressed a kiss to my forehead. My cheeks turned red this time. "…or at least when he was about your age." A small laugh escaped his mouth as I bashfully smiled.

"You both grew up so fast…" the man remarked to himself. Childishly, I shook my head again.

"I'm not that old."

"You're a young man: A young man who's still growing. You might not be as old as America, but at least you're brighter than him, the barmpot."

"I thought you liked Alfred."

"I do, but he can be a pain when he wants to be."

Another pause between us. A pleasant pause. My mind began to wander until I came across something. I glanced at Britain who returned my stare shortly after.

"Could we…" I began slowly, not wanting to cut the warm silence. "Could we begin our meeting like promised?"

The gentleman simply laughed at me, and for a second there I was convinced he meant it mockingly. Reassuringly, however, he patted the top of my head and added with a genuine smile

"Silly thing: we already had our meeting." Though he smiled and sounded legitimate, I couldn't help but feel struck in the back. I frowned.

"Oh, don't frown, Sealand," England cooed reassuringly, keeping up that odd, comforting smile "Don't think so negatively."

"But we were meant to: it's what grown-ups do."

"You came to visit me to talk about your independence, right?"

I nodded at this, furrowing a puzzled brow.

"Well, think back to what we had just discussed earlier: what had we talked over?"

"Me."

"And?"

"My…independence?"

"There you go." His face immediately brightened as my eyes filled with acknowledgment. My lips curled into a smile as I realized everything. We buoyantly stared at each other as if we discovered lost treasure.

"So this means I'm a complete country, is that correct?" I clarified, smiles not wanting to fade.

"Correct." Britain returned with a smile reaching ear-to-ear, somehow still holding onto his gentleman persona. My feelings bubbled at his response and suddenly, I lost all rational thought and blithely pressed my lips to the corner of Britain's shut mouth, excitement electrifying my blood and flesh. When I pulled away from the subtly surprised Englishman, the only thing I could manage to say was

"Thank you!"

And before I knew it, he embraced me one final time.

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><p><strong><span>AN:** Well wasn't that fun. I hope so. It was fun writing it, and yet by the end of the fic, I couldn't help but feel that England became a pedophile. I sort of made up for it when Sealand willingly kissed him instead... Yay for role switching(?). orz

Anyways, reviews would be splendid, seeing as though I cherish all of them that come my way. c:


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